Bearing Redemption
by Doublebend
Summary: AU, GinHitsu. In a world where Aizen doesn't exist, it's up to Toushiro to become God. He is prepared to lure, trick, and use people. He is prepared to kill and betray. He knows others want his body, and what they would pay for it. The world must be changed - for the sky in Hueco Mundo is as hollow as ever, and it's too late to turn back now. Inspired by BRM3:Catharsis no Enternity
1. Not Long Left

**This idea has been bugging me for a really long time after I read that special chapter Tite-sensei drew up for Shiro-chan's movie promotion, how he hadn't willingly become a shinigami and all, and intensified after watching Bleach the Rock Musical: Bankai Code 003. For those who has never seen the DVD or the uploads on Youtube, there is a corner where Ichimaru (Tsuchiya Yuuichi) hosts an "Uso Contest" in which the whole cast competes with each other, and the winner gets to sing "Catharsis no Eternity" in Aizen's place as Ichimaru and Tousen breakdance and sing with him/her. The official version is the show where Shiro-chan (Nagayama Takashi, who I hereby dub "The Miracle Baby-face", seeing as he is slightly older than Tsucchi by months but can **_**still **_**look as cute as Toushiro could be in real life! *gushgush*) wins, and after rewatching the video with the breakdance and the harmonized melody you can't get with any other winner (because Nagayan's voice is an alto, while almost every other actor there is a tenor or bass) I couldn't stand it anymore and just **_**had**_** to write this. **_***Okay, deep breath in, deep breath out***_

**As far as my memory goes, Nagayan is the only cast who sang and danced it perfectly, while almost everyone else forgot their lines or positions, resulting in lots of humor but not many fangirl screams from the audience. And in the backstage videos, he can be seen practicing it for fun behind Tsucchi and, um, guy who plays Tousen. The Uso Contests themselves are **_**hilarious**_**, I highly recommend anyone who hasn't watched them to go search it up NOW.**

**Let's pretend that Aizen never existed, and instead, it's Shiro-chan who's planning world domination. And that even though the timeline will most definitely get screwed up somewhere along the way, somehow the world in this story played itself out as closer to the same as the series it could get. Because the story writes itself, with no regard whatsoever to the fact that I have volunteer work in the morning tomorrow as well as cram school in the afternoon and evening and it's past midnight now.**

**Disclaimer: But you've got to admit, evil!Shiro-chan is an awesome idea in any fanfiction. And, well, servant!Gin too X)**

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><p><strong>Not Long Left<strong>

The moon in Hueco Mundo was empty and sorrowful, as it cast its light onto the barren landscape of sand and blackness below. Not a single wind blew, and not a single being dared to walk boldly out in the open space where anything could be watching them, waiting for them, so the sand dunes could stay unshifted for years, doomed to be frozen on the same place they were formed for an endless amount of time. It was a world with no walls, but one looming, white shadow created a background out of the utter darkness and served as the only way to find one's bearings in the vast, still realm. At first, looking upon it saved some of the still rational Hollows from losing their sanity, especially those who had visited the material world before and had experienced the glory of the sun and stars, the exalting rush in their bloodstreams when their prey tried to run and screamed in vain. But even the walls and towers of the great castle showed no change in the tens of years after it was built, and feeling their briefly offered solace being ripped away from them, bit by bit, like a peeling bandage that had stuck to flesh by crusted blood, many of the inhabitants of Hueco Mundo sought to lose themselves in the torrent of raging emotions and pure instinct, for it was their turn to fall prey to their own hearts and be devoured.

Inside Las Noches was the last and only refuge in this special hell, a mirage of an oasis that shone dimly in the eternal moonlight and the reflection of it on the white sand. With its massiveness, it would probably not be a lie to say that nobody had ever walked through all of its corridors, crossed the grounds, seen all of the rooms, save for one person. That someone had been powerful enough to raise the foundations of the castle from the very sand underneath his feet, as his followers watched in awe as a marble fortress, pure and white, much like its maker, was lifted with just the raise of the arms with an almighty rumble that echoed in the boundless space, as though it had been made beforehand and had simply been sleeping in the ground for centuries until then. They all knew, however, that that was not so.

The maker, the God himself, usually confined himself in what could be called the throne room, languishing for days on a chair twice his width and height. Although nobody dared to call him too small for it, he still emitted a quiet, humming aura that seemed to swim through the air around and in Las Noches, leaking through the cracks between the door and the floor (never mind that that was contradictory, seeing as they were made to be airtight), the barred but glassless windows, flowing permanently and constantly, never more than just a presence to remind them of who their master was. The high collar of his plain coat came up to his cheeks and brushed his ears, as the rest of it clasped his bodyline like a lover, its end fluttering around the ankles of his small black boots, where the legs of his trousers remained untucked. His pale, flawless skin flashed through the black-rimmed, v-neck shirt underneath, exposing the base of his neck and part of his chest, hugged to his torso by a thin black belt on his lower stomach. His hair was softer than it had been back when he was playing the part of the dedicated child genius back in Soul Society, and it fell about his face in a leisurely way. Hyourinmaru usually lay either on his lap or on the side, except for the rare occurrences when he was back in his rightful place, strapped to the back of his owner as he managed to dredge up enough energy to slide off the throne and move around, which he only did for a purpose, often never getting up even to stretch. If one didn't know any better, they would have thought he was too tired.

Toushiro cursed himself inwardly for the umpteenth time since his arrival in Hueco Mundo. He probably shouldn't have killed those girls – Loly and Menoly, he dimly recalled – on the very first day, when the three captains had escaped from Soul Society. The boy wished he could have called it a show of power or even used the fact that Loly, all doting smile and innocently childish eyes, had been fingering a hidden dagger dripping with poison as she sidled up to him – he wouldn't say _where_ she was hiding it – as an excuse, but that wouldn't be the truth at all. The _truth_ was that he wanted to see something die. Cruel, rather inhumane, but he hadn't cared at that time, even with his two usual companions flanking both sides of him. He hadn't thought their departure would affect him as much as it had, somewhere deep, deep within him, and in retrospect, seeking the thrill of violence and pleasure in causing the girl pain may have been his way of dealing with the turn of events. Menoly was probably supposed to have been back up, but by the time the ice dragon's claws had dug into her back and sliced her open, she had already been a good distance away from the fallen body of her "friend" and still running. There was no excuse for her.

Now, when he thought back to it, perhaps it would have been for his own good if he had let them keep their pathetic lives and entertain him in this room rather than keeping solely to himself, so intensely _bored_ that he was starting to tire of the feeling itself. A little riling would have been all it would take for their masks to break, and at least he could be listening to empty death threats and the snarling of a weak, lost dog than the sound of the unmoving air he was surrounded with right now. Toushiro hadn't even given thought to what exactly about him as their king the girls were unsatisfied with, although he knew that plenty of old reasons from the time he was a captain would instantly spring to mind. It didn't bother him then, it wouldn't now.

There was nothing exceptionally special about today. Everything was so very peaceful up here; sure, he was hatching a plan that would put the worlds' balance in jeopardy and result in thousands, maybe millions of lives being lost, he had surrounded himself with beasts and mad men and turned himself into a traitor in the eyes of the Death Gods, but more than a month had gone by since he had started living his life as an outlaw (and a powerful outlaw, at that) and he had had enough time to have gotten used to it already. Toushiro didn't know if something was calling his subconscious, or if it had been pure impulse, but he found himself rising slowly from the high-backed chair and, leaving his zanpakutou behind for once, stepped carefully down the steps to a wide window overlooking the entirety of his fortress and the desert outside.

The moonlight on his face was cold and uncaring. He didn't know what he expected to find outside, but from the safety of his room he saw this world in quite a different light from the savages that crawled on the ground outside his barriers. The emptiness was replaced with sereneness, the quiet solitude giving him space to think things he could not, would dare not, back in Soul Society. Then again, he was feeling like he had too much of that these days, and maybe that was what drove those Hollows into eventual lunacy. Toushiro made a mental note to be aware of that. Still, it was a pity that Hueco Mundo didn't have any stars. The sky was as black as it would be in a city in the material world, and he found that notion slightly unpleasant as he strained to see if he could spot one light, one insignificant, tiny light desperately twinkling in the vast openness.

Maybe if he had time later he could find a way to make stars in that sky. He'd entertained the idea of a fake horizon and atmosphere before, but deemed it a waste of power, and he wasn't about to live what little remained of his life wrapped up in more lies than necessary. Besides, it would keep his Espada on their toes for their visit to the material world. Stars were made of gas, he knew, collected and compressed to the right degree to make a humungous ball of plasma, but he had to be careful, he didn't know yet how he was going to do it but he was sure it would need quite a number of deadly experiments, and the subjects for it.

He shook his head, clamping down on the thought instantaneously. Power madness was an unhealthy type of addiction. His grandmother would not be proud; then again, she had no reason to forgive him for whatever else he had done. He expected the news of the desertation of the three captains had gone around the whole of Rukongai now, to every nook and cranny, to the filthiest alleyway in the lowest district. And even if it had somehow missed her, or she refused to believe it of her youngest grandchild, Hinamori would have gone to visit her and to break it to her with her own accounts.

"Well, it's nice ta see ya up and about with being persuaded into it fer once," a voice purred beside his ear.

Toushiro's hand did not even twitch for his sword, aware of its absence on his back, but they both knew Ichimaru would be missing an arm right about now if he wasn't so damn lucky. He could feel the warmth at his back, as the taller bent over him to look out at the scenery as well, and slight annoyance ran up his body at the difference in their size.

"Just because I didn't agree to situating guards at the door doesn't mean you can walk in unannounced, Gin," he said without turning, eyes locked on the invisible horizon, his tone level.

"Aw, now don't be like that," the smirk was evident in the voice above him. "We're practically living in the same house now. Least ya can let me do is look out fer ya wellbeing."

"What a comforting thought. Are you going to keep talking in such an impudent manner to me?"

The presence behind him lessened immediately. "'Scuse me, Captain."

They lapsed into silence, the younger boy folding his arms before his chest in satisfaction as they searched the land below them for nothing in particular. It was never this quiet even at night in Soul Society, where they at least had crickets in the colder weather and cicadas in the summer to cut through the tranquil atmosphere in the dark. At first, the novelty of days without noise for hours on end, void of the business of battle and work, were pleasing as much as it had been almost daunting, but now that they were the norm Toushiro found very little meaning in trying to occupy himself with them. It was true that although he ate normally and slept regularly, the amount of time he spent actually _doing_ things had lessened considerably – even his previous hobbies, like reading and writing, rarely made any appearance in his daily life these days.

"How is Wonderweiss doing?" he said out loud, still keeping his gaze trained outside the window.

A light chuckle. "He seems attached ta Kaname," Gin answered, amusedly. "Makes this moaning noise every time he's in the same room as me."

A small smile flickered on the boy's lips as well. "They do say animals make a good judge of character."

"That's been bothering me, in all honesty. Why did ya make something so mindless, literally? He serves a purpose, but he can't think fer himself. Ya wanted a weapon, but not a pet."

"Does it really make a difference?" Toushiro drawled. "Give him enough brain area to work out that he could do so much more than be used by us, and the consequences will be irreversible. Like it or not, he is a product of the Hougyoku, and we need that power to reach Soul Society. My ice can only counter the old man's Ryujin Jyakka for just a few seconds. He is destined to be discarded. Don't let yourself think otherwise."

A shuffling sound reached his ears, and he turned to see that Ichimaru had moved to lean against the wall beside him. "I couldn't if I tried. It's just…so unlike ya. Ta make a thing with only a single, sole purpose in living. Or rather, existing."

"Oh?" Toushiro said. "And what makes you think that?"

"I thought it'll remind ya of yerself."

Toushiro's gaze hardened, and for a moment they stood there, simply staring at each other, bright teal eyes to smiling shut ones, and a bystander may have felt sparks crackling softly in the air around them. The smaller of them looked away again, however, obviously deeming the fight not worth it. "I see. And you thought I wouldn't like a being like myself to be borne into the world."

"Maybe it's just because ya never seemed ta act on selfish motivations back when ya were acting the perfect captain," Ichimaru admitted, to be even. "But ya've been _quite_ selfish lately. I hear yer planning ta send Ulquiorra ta snatch the Orihime girl? And consequently, bribe her friends into followin'."

It was like playing a game of cat-and-mouse. They were both evading each other with empty smiles and carefully chosen words. Toushiro knew Ichimaru was only being uncharacteristically blunt because he was trying to get his former captain to let slip of something, anything to shed some light on his ideas and schemes, but the boy was as much of a player as he was.

"Like you said, I'm taking liberty of my 'exiled' status now and am doing things my way," he smiled. "Those kids should be grateful. I'm rescuing them for a dangerous and horrible battle, and giving them entry to this small sanctuary I personally built."

"Sure, they should be grateful. They escape with their lives, _if_ they survive the kind of freaks we keep in here, while ya destroy their home an' lives an' friends an' family." Ichimaru shook his head. "Yer generosity comes in fits and bursts."

"What can I say? God hands out small mercies."

"Ah, so yer a _god_ now."

"I didn't say that. I'm going to be one."

A true laugh from both sides there, as they thought about the irony and the twisted meaning of the words. "So do I get ta be an angel?"

"You knew there would be benefits in joining me from the moment I first invited you," Toushiro replied, still grinning. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here. What would you like? Power, riches, women?" But he wasn't giving the man a chance to answer, as his voice slipped into a darker, huskier tone, despite the little mad smile still on his face. "No, right? Because that wasn't what I mentioned to you in my offer. You followed me because I made you afraid, wasn't it?"

There was no change in the frozen expression on the fox-face. "I don't know what ya mean."

"You don't have to pretend. Just say the word; you've done enough for me. Who would you like to be spared?" Toushiro stepped lightly away from the window, but not out of the moonlight as he faced Ichimaru fully. "Matsumoto? Kira? I won't promise that they'll be unharmed, but they won't die."

There was a pause, before Ichimaru asked, "What about ya, Captain? Hinamori-chan, perhaps?"

Toushiro's face fell instantly and he looked away, and there was a second where uneasy silence reigned. His face looked troubled, the first sign of hesitation Ichimaru had seen of their leader after coming to Hueco Mundo. "I am…still not sure what to do with her, myself. I can kill her. I've tried to before, but then she was still necessary to deliver the news to my grandmother. And she _is_ my sister. I – I think I shall ask her. Momo is the type of person who will try to atone for my sins, even if it's impossible, and I doubt she can cope with that in the world I am going to make after this. Maybe she would rather die than face the destruction my actions will bring."

He realized too late that he had said too much, carried by genuine uncertainty and had fallen straight into the fox's trap. But Ichimaru didn't seem to be gloating about the matter, as his smile had suddenly vanished and an almost stunning look of seriousness descended upon him. They stood and remembered the girl they had left shocked into unconsciousness, bleeding her life out alone in the barren, residential system of Central 46.

The man was the first to break the stillness. "Ta exactly what measures," he asked, "Would you go ta fer my wishes ta be granted?"

Toushiro raised his head, eyes wide and round in surprise, before he burst out laughing. "Are you afraid that I might not go through with my promises?" he grinned. "You have nothing to worry about. I don't plan to get out of this alive, anyway. What do I have left to lose? The least I can do is thank you for your services for the past century."

But Ichimaru was oddly quiet, when Toushiro had expected some sort of comeback by now. He puzzled over the man's behavior, before noticing that this was the first time he had told Ichimaru – or anyone, really – that he wasn't hopeful of sticking around enough to even catch a glimpse of the world he was going to create.

"If I'm going ta gain something yer going ta sacrifice yerself fer," Ichimaru spoke up suddenly. "I don't want it. I would rather ya survive. Captain," he added.

Toushiro blinked.

He wasn't entirely sure where that had come from. Perhaps his ears were deceiving him, because the Ichimaru Gin he knew was indifferent to the plights of other people, including himself. Ichimaru Gin did not make comments like that to the likes of him.

"Why would you want that?" he wondered. "Have you forgotten? You probably wouldn't be here if I hadn't more or less blackmailed you. If I hadn't told you that night that if you didn't follow me, I would destroy all those you care about by my own hands. Of course, you'd probably be dead then, but you have your sharpness to thank for that. You hate me. At least, I thought you were supposed to." He gave a small, mocking smile, trying to hide the uncertainty behind it. "Or did your fear of me drive you into a corner until you couldn't take it anymore? Have you lost your mind, like the creatures of this place?"

"I didn't follow ya outta fear, Captain," Ichimaru stated calmly. "I came because I cared fer ya."

Something was not right.

"I'm not letting ya go through with this on yer own." Ichimaru's voice was silkily soft, soothing in a way that even Toushiro was having trouble tearing himself away from, because he needed to fix this, he could not have Ichimaru doing this right now. "I won't let ya take on the world alone. That's what I promised ya, remember? All those years ago?"

The floor of the hall was a vast, white sea between them, despite the fact they were only standing within a few feet of each other. Toushiro's eyes trailed down to it, softening in a sudden wave of nostalgia.

He did remember. It was during the time when this plot was just an ideal in his mind, and as he removed obstacle after obstacle, tentatively, carefully, he had come to a point when it was time to overthrow his own watchful, suspicious captain who had tasked himself with the job of keeping an eye on the "prodigy" who was his vice. It was also where he and Ichimaru had met inside Seireitei for the first time. They were both no more than children, and Toushiro's growth had always been slower than the older boy, but Ichimaru had shown fascination in both Toushiro and the long, elaborated conspiracy for utter destruction of the universe they were rotting in. Even after their success, as each step just seemed to get easier and easier, they stayed drunk on the prospect of victory; they were never careless, but at times when they were alone together, meeting to check on each other's situation in a secluded area–

He noticed one day that Ichimaru had grown, slim but strong, attractive even, his smile never wavering, skilled as a captain and intelligent. Perhaps too intelligent.

And he also realized what was exactly at risk if they were to accomplish their objective. That he will lose his life. That things could not continue this way, if they were not to have any doubts.

He ascertained with Ichimaru what exactly will become of the very few he thought of preciously if he was to backstab his captain. Kept him on a shorter leash. Fed more and more sweet and sympathetic words – not lies – to Tousen, fueling his anger at the injustice of the Death Gods, his grief for a woman he had never seen before, and forced him to believe that somehow, it would be Toushiro who would put everything right in the world.

He pushed Ichimaru away. Distanced them, before the other man could pull him back. Tried to convince himself that he did not care if either of them were to perish in the process, just that it would be a minor inconvenience.

Toushiro felt something heavy and dismaying laying at the pit of his stomach. The last one, apparently, hadn't worked.

"I was gratified of your loyalty then," he said. "But it doesn't mean that I want you to keep such promises anymore. I've already made my decision–"

"And ya won't even try putting mine into consideration? That's just cruel, Toushiro," Gin interrupted, a smile flitting past his stony features for once. "Ya said ya will do yer best ta spare who I ask ya ta. I only want–"

But the younger of them was slowly backing away, suppressed anger darkening his hooded eyes as he glared up at the silver-haired man. "I won't listen to that," he stated, desperately warding the tremble in his voice away. "That's not the way this is going to turn out – it's impossible, and you know that. And it's Captain Hitsugaya to you."

"I love ya," Ichimaru blurted out. Toushiro froze, legs rooted to the spot, almost at the edge of the light cast by the moon, pouring from the large window between them. "I've loved ya fer ages. If yer going to die, I'm going with ya."

His breath was coming up short. "Don't be ridiculous."

A harsh chuckle escaped Ichimaru's curled lips, as he took one cautious step closer, into the moonlight. "I don't see what else there is ta do in life without ya and yer plans ta dance with."

He kept coming nearer, as deliberately as a predator stalking its prey, closing the last of the distance Toushiro had put between them. He couldn't run, not when the slits were sliding open just as infuriatingly slowly as his walking, revealing a pair of orbs the same colour as of the colossal one in the sky and pinning him with their intensity. A hand with long fingers reached for him when they were close enough, and his lips parted in the faintest, the minutest of gasps.

"Don't touch me," he warned lowly, but there was already something warm and heavy resting on his face, to the right of his forehead, tangling in a few locks of white softness. Then Ichimaru's hand was sliding tantalizingly down, running slightly over his eyelids, his porcelain-pale cheeks and brushing against his mouth before he felt his chin being tilted gently up, stilled for a moment as the man above him, with shadows cast on his features in the silver light, admired the expression he must have been wearing; before he was bending, tilting his head slightly as he descended down towards Toushiro, and his own lips opening unconsciously to greet the velvety sensation–

A bang that shook the foundations of the building reverberated in the hall and Ichimaru was flying backwards in the air, hitting Toushiro's throne and slumping in it in a mocking imitation of his master. He groaned in discomfort, struggling to keep his swimming eyes focused. A slight pressure on his lap forced him to raise his head; Toushiro was so light that at first, with his double-vision, Ichimaru wasn't able to recognize the fact that he was crawling up the older man's body. Planting thin arms on either side of Ichimaru's hips, he brought his face closer to the other's, so close that for a moment Ichimaru thought that he was going to get that kiss anyway. But for a few seconds there was only the sound of Toushiro's slightly harsh breathing, loud next to his ear, before three words were whispered in a shaking, helpless voice.

"_It's too late."_

The near negligible weight of the boy was gone from his lap before Ichimaru really acknowledged it, and by the time he had looked up Toushiro was looping Hyourinmaru's sheath over his head and shoulder, and striding down the steps and the hall to the enormous doors, always the picture of perfect composure and without a hair out of place. Ichimaru didn't even have time to call out to him before the doors were creaking shut of their own accord, and could only watch the small, lone back disappear behind them.

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><p><strong>I haven't written a chapter so quickly recently. Maybe that's how much I wanted to get this down.<strong>

**But this is going to be a oneshot. Yup. Because every time I start writing something and it's supposed to be a oneshot, there has only been **_**three time**_** when it actually ended as one. And stories that were born to be mulit-chaptered have never been finished as of yet. So this is going to **_**stay **_**as a oneshot and GAAHH FUTURE CHAPTER IDEAS GET OUT OF MY HEAD *waves arms frantically to disperse thought clouds*.**

**Okay, you know. It **_**might **_**be a multi-chapter, if I think I can collect enough will in myself to write these admittedly really teasing ideas…So, um…**

**REVIEWS. PLEASE. CLICK THAT BUTTON DOWN THERE. AND LET'S SPREAD THE LOVE OF OUR FAVOURITE CAPTAIN COUPLE.**

**By the way, Nagayan also plays the first cast of the Prince of Tennis Musicals as Kikumaru Eiji, and Tsucchi plays Oishi with him! Golden Pair Forever!**


	2. Then There Was The Night

**Soooo obviously this isn't going to be a oneshot! The last one was just a dud! A prologue! Which is pretty stupid of me, considering how many multi-chaptered fics floating around there with nothing but my imagination to finish them in now…**

**What can I say? Stories that happen to walk along the original plot compel to me, partly because they don't require me to think so much as I should. OR SO I THOUGHT.**

**Or maybe it was the idea of a seductress (seducter?) Shiro-chan, which compels to my not-so-secret perverted side…and apparently that of the whole of Soul Society. Hah.**

**Anyway, since now it seems that I definitely am going to continue this fic (or what I can with the whole "Must-get-into-a-university-so-I-don't-become-a-homeless-in-the-long-term" thing this year), I'd love to hear what you think of all…this. *waves hand in general virtual direction of story*. Obviously the characters are so twisted (or at least one of them is…to make up for another one who DOESN'T EVEN EXIST.) and I'm just letting my imagination run wild, but I dunno. Is it working for anyone? Apart from myself and the exam stress? You see, this is my new tactic at begging for reviews - actually asking for opinions before going on my own happy way anyway. Aaand I probably shouldn't have said that.**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated like you have no_ idea_.**

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><p><strong>Then There Was The Night<strong>

A hundred and ten years ago, Seireitei was a very different place.

It was a time that spoke of persons with talent and power that was unheard of until then, and the Death Gods boasted of perfection and strength that was impossible to break. Never had there been a Gotei that stood so firm, with so many outstanding figures that served as their leaders and mentors. Many miracles were born in this generation, and legends thrived to become idols for those underneath them, living on even to the following decades.

One of them, perhaps the most famous of them all, was the vice-captain of the Fifth Division, child prodigy Hitsugaya Toushiro.

His third seat certainly had not been expecting him when the boy, not much taller than his calf, silently slipped into the office the third and fourth seats shared with all the agility of a cat. The larger man jumped about a foot in the air when he heard the door click to a close, stumbling to straighten up and stand at attention.

"Sir!" he more or less yelped, as his little toe hit the leg of his desk. Biting the urge to hop and whine down, he stammered through the pain. "I – I – I didn't hear you entering!"

He sneaked a peek from underneath his eyelids at the child standing with his back to the door, eyes smiling mischievously back at the burly man. Vice-Captain Hitsugaya wasn't so small that his zanpakutou, Hyourinmaru, could not be carried on his slight back without dragging across the floor, but it was a long sword and still it was a close call. It wasn't clear if it was for a show of power or simply for convenience's sake, but no one had ever seen the boy release Hyourinmaru from its shikai state. He was also a renowned genius; intelligence and power seemed to ooze from him, despite his usually cool demeanor and contrasting baby fat on his face. The boy looked no more than eight, in human terms, but he held a majestic beauty about him nevertheless; his hair were snowy locks looked as light and soft as feathers, making the pure colour of his large eyes stand out; they were themselves the clearest emerald, and in the light they shone like polished jewels. The third seat could feel himself being sucked into their depth, and he swallowed as perfectly shaped lips curled into a playful smile that seemed to him too seductive than it was appropriate for a mere _child_.

It was also said – whispered under hands in the corner of bars and used as the sort of rumor so dangerous that people looked around anxiously whenever it was mentioned – that the Fifth Vice-Captain was a changeling, an incubus in disguise, as he tempted men and women with his otherworldly attractiveness and pixie-like features. Those who could see past that childish exterior was plagued night and day by images of a fallen white angel among soft blankets, cheeks stained pink and teal eyes wanton. The worst part was that the child apparently wasn't oblivious to the stories about him milling about – he even tolerated some of the more mocking ones, which sneered at him and asked him to show them what _exactly _he did to reach his position at such a young age, with a flirtatious smile and a dismissive toss of the head that implied many, many things. Although the Third Seat didn't think he had any fetishes that involved small boys, looking at his superior made his mouth dry and the image of his writhing body under the man's haunted his dreams no matter how much he tried to shake them away.

"I apologize for interrupting your work, Third Seat," Vice-Captain Hitsugaya said sweetly. His voice was like honey and had a tinkling quality that reminded the other Death God of wind chimes in the summer breeze, but the man was too preoccupied with the flick of a pink tongue he had glimpsed when its owner had wet his lips to give an answer that didn't involve gaping like a goldfish.

But it didn't really matter, for Hitsugaya was already continuing without waiting for a reply, his expression eager and young. "I have a favour to ask of you, actually," he said, approaching the desk. If the Third Seat could have rubbed his eyes and just…stared…without appearing insubordinate, he would have then, because there might have been that _slightest _sway of the hips that may or may not have been the product of his suddenly overactive imagination. "I know you've been busy these days, as we all have been after Captain Hikifune took her leave by promotion. You've hardly taken a day off since last New Year, and that's months ago. So well, I've been thinking, maybe we should have some recreational time in between work, you know? To freshen the mind and further motivation."

Pearly whites flashed as Hitsugaya beamed up at him expectantly. The Third Seat didn't quite know what to make of this, because he had never been on the receiving end of such an expression of his usually distant boss.

He couldn't disagree that it was enchanting, though.

"That...that sounds like a fine idea, Vice-Captain. Do you need some assistance in planning it, or would you like me to spread the news in the division?"

He wondered at the brief look of sudden nervousness on his superior's face, who worried his lips with sharp, white teeth. "Actually...it's not something I'd like to share with the whole division. I'd been hoping it could be just you and me."

The faintest pink dusted his cheeks as the third seat stared disbelievingly, his brain barely registering what the shuffling, pretty figure before him had asked of him. There was no way, no way apart from in his dreams, he could have heard that right. The vice-captain could have virtually anyone – _anyone _– to spend his free time with, certainly someone far more important than he was if it was an intelligent and fascinating conversation Hitsugaya was after. The man suppressed the urge to look himself over, as the gears in his brain whirled furiously to comprehend what the boy _really _meant by his words.

"I – I – Vice-Captain H-Hitsugaya," he stuttered, instantly feeling stupid in front of those sharp, bright eyes. "I'm afraid I don't really–"

He flailed for the right words when the young, hopeful face fell. Humiliation and rejection darkened those clear orbs, and Hitsugaya made to turn away.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice wavering just enough to be slightly evident, unease flickering across his expression as he tried unsuccessfully to revert to his usual indifferent manner. "That was improper and assumptive of me. I only thought ... only I could use a sparring partner. But the other vice-captains are just as laden with work as we are, and I'm really no match for Captain Hirako. If you'd rather not want to, well, I understand–"

"Nuh...no!" the Third Seat spluttered. "I didn't mean it like that, sir! It took me off guard, that's all, sir! I – uhhh, I mean, you...I'm not as skilled as you in kenjutsu _or_ kidou, sir. How can I possibly be of any use...?"

He trailed off uncertainly, even though every nerve in his body screamed at him to accept the offer already. It was every Death God's dream – even the ones who detested the boy – to be granted even a moment together with Vice-Captain Hitsugaya, although it wasn't simply charisma which compelled them to it. He didn't look as dangerous as higher ups were supposed to be; indeed, one could describe him as "cute", if one wanted their head lopped off or simply knew no better.

The smile had once again turned hopeful, and sparkling, large eyes were set upon the older man again, making him swallow.

"It's not really wanting to train than simply needing some private time to relax, I guess," Hitsugaya admitted, earnest bubbling from words although his cheeks had coloured. "And I find that a companion during those times clears my head of work far more effectively. And ... I _do _kind of want to get to know you better," he said shyly. He laid a little, tender hand on the desk between them and traced its edges, sometimes drawing small, slow circles in a subtly disturbing way that drew the Third Seat's attention. "If you would accept..."

His heart was in his throat as the Third Seat nodded frantically. This was far too good a deal for him to pass on. "I'll be most honoured, sir!"

A sweet, secretive quirk formed on one side of those perfect lips, all but destroying the innocent appearance and replacing it with something more arousing. "Then I'll see you tomorrow night, in the training grounds. No one apart from us will be about."

There was too many an implication in that statement. The older one could feel sweat on his palms, slicking them as he clenched the fabric of his clothes. "N-night, Vice-Captain?"

"Of course. There's no other time the both of us will be free, is there?" Hitsugaya finally stepped away from the desk, a rather accomplished look on his face which made a tiny, insignificant part of the Third Seat's mind wonder briefly if his superior had been expecting his agreement to the invitation from the very beginning. It was quickly washed away by his next words, however.

"Oh, and," he looked back over his shoulder, half out of the door. "Maybe, if you can ... please me enough, I just might give you a reward."

And with a shadow of a wink fluttering over his glimmering eyes, Vice-Captain Hitsugaya slipped out of the room soundlessly, leaving the third seat mentally clutching at his chest in a sudden fit of hyperventilation.

- X -

Hirako Shinji did not trust his direct subordinate one little bit.

As a captain, some suspicion was a requirement as much as trusting others to watch his back was, given the circumstances. He'd experienced mutiny before, though minor ones, and it was his own cunning, horned instincts which had saved his skin in all of them. He must have kept his position longer and more firmly than what most of his division had expected him to, because gradually people started to fear, respect, admire his unchallenged strength and started to find his laidback attitude relieving, not annoying. It helped that he was so dashingly handsome too, no matter what that ape Hiyori said (she was probably jealous of his luscious hair).

But his Vice-Captain was a queer case, a snake in the grass. Shinji didn't know what exactly it was staring back at him through those brilliant, clear orbs, but it chilled him to remember the one time he had spotted Hitsugaya's face drain of all emotions, and turn hard, colder than he had ever seen in anybody else's eyes, twist into something that warranted strange discontentment, even for only an instant. He couldn't fathom what had caused the boy to lose his usually sturdy composure and allow such an expression, but all he knew was that it was when those with ranks lower than captains had been gathered one day to be informed of the death of the Tenth Division Captain some years back.

He didn't like to think about it, but a month after that he assigned Hitsugaya as his new vice-captain. This was always how he weeded out those which posed a threat to him; lure them closer to monitor their movements, watched their every move until they slipped up or couldn't bear the pressure anymore. He was always prepared and when he struck, it was with speed and precision – it had never failed him before. At least, if the opponent wasn't subtly implementing the same method into his own.

Hitsugaya Toushiro was dangerous. There weren't many Death Gods who completed the academy in a single year, let alone at his age, but there was more underneath that mask he had unknowingly cracked once – he could feel it. It was all Shinji could do to keep him a few steps behind him, and stay on alert enough to never let the boy learn him well enough.

Which was pretty hard considering that even he had admitted to himself, grudgingly, that Hitsugaya was quite enticing. Especially when he looked so flustered, jogging to catch up to his captain like right now.

The younger male skidded to a halt before Shinji, leaning against the wall of a sweet shop, coughing in the small dust cloud he had kicked up. Shinji waited for him to catch his breath, before digging into the bag of sweets he had bought beforehand as Hitsugaya hastily straightened his disheveled appearance and started apologising profusely.

"Captain Hirako," he gasped. "I am so sorry, work kept me back and I couldn't quite get away. Um, oh, I hope you didn't wait for me too long, my actions cannot be forgiven, this – this doesn't usually happen–"

He was fumbling uncharacteristically, innocent mask pleading in the most adorable manner. It's so natural, Shinji thought, that if he hadn't known better, he might be tripping over himself to reassure the boy his tardiness would _of course _be excused.

As it was, the act sickened him.

Shinji drew out a couple of colorful, wrapped sweets, and handed one to Hitsugaya. "Have at it," he grinned. "And watch the clock next time."

He popped the other one into his mouth, watching his vice shrewdly as he discreetly pocketed the candy with a slightly puckered expression and a muttered "thank you". The boy seemed to have some aversion to being treated in any way like a child, as though sincerely miffed at being judged by his appearance. Which suited Hirako just fine, because it meant he had constant entertainment following him around who was less inclined to be insubordinate and make a scene than Hiyori was, and because he could keep up the pretense of fondness through his teasing.

He patted some imaginary dust off the side of his haori as he straightened, and smirked down at the boy.

"We should go, then. The Captain-Commander gets cranky when he's being kept...although, between you and myself, I personally think he has a soft spot for you. So put on your best 'favourite ickle grandson' face, alright? Or whatever pleases that old pervert."

It would have been funny had Hitsugaya not wrinkled his nose in appropriate disdain, and did an almost-pout. Shinji paused, forced a laugh, before carrying on, a nauseous sensation settling in his stomach and something warmer – but no less repulsive – coiling in his chest.

_Boy's a monster,_ he reminded himself, like he did about fifty times a day. _It's all an act. …No use wishing it isn't._

Captain and vice made their way through the shops of Seireitei, quickly disappearing into the swarm of swirling black robes.

- X -

The night air was slightly warm, full with the sound of crickets hidden in the grass and soft with heavy darkness that permeated the sky. Only the stars were witness to those who crawled the ground underneath, the new moon hidden in a shroud that transformed it into one with the heavens.

The sound of the body of the Third Seat hitting the long grass was almost non-existent, just like that of the sword that had slashed through the breeze and across the man's throat. His blood was liquid ruby splattered across the tall grass, glistening darkly as they fell, smearing a bit on pale, smooth skin.

Ichimaru Gin's grin did not waver once as he watched the man's twitching limbs relax and still, the dark blood pooling from the wound like water from a broken dam, sinking into the soft soil the Third Seat lay face-down in. He felt something warm run down his cheek, thick and slow. Tearing his gaze away from the corpse, he turned slowly, reveling as his dirtied sword dripped with every movement he made.

A figure sat cross-legged in the grass some way off. The standard Death God robes melted into the night well, but his white skin and hair stood out too much for him to disappear as completely as the body of the Third Seat had done. He looked ghostly, a dimly visible, disembodied head floating just above the waving grass, staring with cold, electric green eyes at Ichimaru.

Finally, he broke out into a smile, and Hitsugaya pushed himself upright and slipped his zanpakutou onto his back again. Ichimaru appraised the boy – a foot or so shorter than himself – with keen, hungry slits of eyes, taking in what he could of this small devil who had essentially sent his own subordinate to hell.

"I'm impressed," Hitsugaya called, making his way slowly across the otherwise deserted field. "You truly are as skilled as I've heard. Perhaps even better."

Ichimaru waited silently as the vice-captain came closer, eventually stopping right before him. The younger boy gave the corpse near their feet a once over, before smiling humourlessly at it and turning to its killer.

"Now," he said, quietly, "Ichimaru Gin, was it?"

His grin widened so much that it almost seemed to split his face in two. Ichimaru gave a mock bow, staring up through his fringes at eye level with Hitsugaya. "'m honoured ya deigned ta remember mah name, Vice Captain."

"It's a rather peculiar one," said Hitsugaya with a nonchalant shrug. "And you're rather infamous amongst the captains. My own mentioned to me that you are a genius, perhaps the miracle child born every once a century. After me, of course," he added with a wry grin. "Although I may have simply chosen to grasp at the opportunity a bit earlier than you did."

He raised his index finger as he spoke. A flickering green light ebbed from the tip, like a dying candle flame at the end of its wick.

"_Kimyou_," he muttered. The fallen figure of the unfortunate Third Seat promptly combust in emerald flames, the dancing prongs licking the air for mere seconds before dying without a trace of ash or smell.

It was a hadou Ichimaru was unfamiliar with, but he chose not to question any further. He gave a low whistle of appreciation instead.

"Well, if I'm a genius, I'd like ta know what ya could possibly be," he answered lightly. "But really, I didn't even need ta hear all those rumors tha' circulate around us lower ranks' cabins ta find yer true face. Ya reeked like me. Ya felt like me."

Hitsugaya frowned, little creases forming between his thin, faint eyebrows, the first expression of confusion he had ever shown that night. "What was that?"

Then he noticed, suddenly, how something had changed in the other boy's attitude. It no longer held the maliciousness of a murderer, nor the playful innocence of a child. Hitsugaya wondered at it, unable to place his finger on this feeling; it was curious, and yet oddly familiar.

This close, he could make out two small, bright lights hidden underneath almost closed eyelids. Pale, pale blue watched him from there, and the young vice-captain stared back, something stirring in the back of his mind.

"Have we...met before, Ichimaru?"

The blue orbs were suddenly obscured as Ichimaru blinked, breaking the trance. His grin came back, reinforced, although Hitsugaya couldn't remember when exactly it had disappeared at all.

"Not if ya don't remember anything. It doesn't matter. I did what ya challenged me ta - we have business ta talk, don't we?"

For a moment, Hitsugaya looked like he was contemplating whether to keep up his line of questioning, since he was obviously the one who got to decide what they were to discuss or not. But Ichimaru kept his grin and silence, and was being delightfully vague about it all, so he shrugged it away with a small, resigned smile of his own. "Very well," he said, turning on his heel and starting towards the general direction of the barracks. "I'm promoting you to third seat, but obviously, don't mention this to anyone you don't have to. See to it that you are prepared to move out of your current quarters; I'll have the papers by tomorrow. Oh, and I will brief you–"

"I didn't mean that kind o' business, Vice-Captain," Ichimaru's half-mocking voice cut across Hitsugaya's and he fell silent. He stopped in his tracks and looked back at Ichimaru, the question hanging in the air between the two. The fox-face stood with his sword still unsheathed, glinting dangerously through the darkness like the faint gleam in his smile.

"I heard about him," he gestured with the hand holding the zanpakuto at the spot where the – now former – Third Seat had lain. Some of the still fresh blood flew from the edge of his sword, and into the black night. "And that you'd offered him a reward if he pleased ya."

The taunt in his smirk was distinct through the darkness. The smaller boy made no reply, so he continued in the same, light tone.

"Well? Have I pleased ya?"

An electric silence ensued, crackling noiselessly with all the tension of a lightning fork, wherein neither of them broke eye contact with each other. Hitsugaya kept his expression unreadable, but eventually he turned back and walked up to the waiting boy. Without a word, he placed his small hands on either side of Ichimaru's face, reached up and pressed his lips – soft as velvet, Ichimaru made sure to note – on the still warm blood smear of the previous Third Seat.

He pulled back very, very slightly, so that Ichimaru could still feel his lips moving as he gave a breathed, "_Yes_," and continued to lap at the crimson patch until it was clean. When he pulled away, his mouth was stained cherry red, and Ichimaru watched with a straight face as his superior's tongue darted in and out, savouring the metallic tinge of blood left on him.

"That's all you're getting for now, Ichimaru," he murmured, turning to go. "You'll have to do a lot more than kill a single man if you were hoping for something else."

His Cheshire grin had long since faded; instead, his arm snaked forward and Hitsugaya was yanked against him, his smaller body too light to truly resist. Their stomachs connected first, the taller of the two keeping a tight grip around his vice-captain's waist, and then the pulse of their hearts and warmth of their breaths were shared as their chests were pressed flush together. But a fraction of a second later the older untangled himself hastily with a hiss, twisting away and rubbing at the arm painfully like he had been burnt. A scowl formed itself on his young features, as he stared accusingly at his indifferent boss.

Hitsugaya smiled at him ruefully, before heading away for good. He called over his shoulder: "Be careful, Third Seat. As talented as you are, you are still replaceable. You wouldn't want to end the way your predecessor did, would you?"

* * *

><p><strong>The Third Seat never gets to live in either universe. Sorry, Third Seat.<strong>

**Ahahaha. So obviously _everyone_ is infatuated with Shiro-chan up till this point, probably even Aizen if he was given a chance to, which makes it extra easy for him to manipulate the idiots. Okay, no. Because he still takes a hundred years to do it anyway, but at least he had more fun doing it! And, uh, yeah, Toushiro looks like an _eight-year-old _when he's half-promising his direct subordinate sex or…something.**

**In case anyone is wondering, not many characters appearing in this story has morals. Thus is the inside of my head, which goes something like this:**

**"Ever heard of the laws and restrictions against child pornography? Or the age of consent? Or writing that actually makes sense?"**

**"What's that? Is it yummy?"**

**Take _that,_ Tokyo Metropo - uh, I mean Great Edo Ordinance Regarding the Healthy Development of Youths!**

**Again, please review!**


	3. Alone The Demented Stand

**I think I got this one down pretty fast! I mean, considering I had about a two month blank between exams and whatnot, so I couldn't fiddle around with my iPod too much. Yeah, writing with my iPod is sort of more natural to me now. I hide it in my pencil case and tap away while the teacher is talking *shrug*.**

**Ohh, I've just been rereading some of my all-time favourite books (I've got the hard-covered type, but I've read them over so much they're so battered and falling apart now! Or I've … just not been treating them right over the years…) and basically am on a sort of "Hey do you know this book? YOU DON'T? YOU SHOULD TOTALLY READ IT NOW" tirade at the moment. So if anybody's interested, know that if someone asked me to recommend them a really good book which they'll like or they'll behead me, I will answer, "Well, the _Bartimaeus Trilogy _is pretty good…Yeah, I know it's a trilogy, but trust me, you'll be dying to read the next book once you get through the first…"**

**Seriously. They won't be beheading me then; we'll be having a fatty-food party discussing the possible relationships Bartimaeus might have had with either of his two most prominent masters – I mean, the aspects of what makes the series so amusing and interesting.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Alone The Demented Stand<strong>

The door to the Ninth Division office burst open with such force that it immediately bounced back from the wall. Mashiro jumped, startled, and dropped her ink stamp; Muguruma Kensei blinked and looked up. An angry whirl of white cloth and dishevelled blonde hair swept into the room, heading straight for the captain's desk, taking large, quick strides even as the door was slammed closed behind him. Hirako did not wait to hear what either of the two had to say for him, despite Kensei's glare and Mashiro's "Hey...!", stopping only once he reached the work-loaded desk and planted his palms, spread wide apart, loudly onto its surface. Scattered parchments shuddered from the impact and slid off to the floor but neither captains paid them mind, although Kensei's silvery eyebrow was twitching. Yet his normally quick temper seemed to lose its flare at the sight of alarmed fury etched on every inch of Shinji's appearance. He watched him fume on the other side of the desk warily, flicking some excess ink of the tip of his brush. Shinji leaned forward, bringing his face closer to the other man, so that he could see the throbbing veins showing faintly at his temples, the rage in his narrowed eyes.

"What," The Fifth Captain snarled, "did you do with him."

After a second of contemplation, Kensei scoffed, and went back to signing his signature. "You'll have to elaborate," he told Shinji, "But I'm going to assume that whatever you want, it has something to do with you barging into my office so early in the day."

Shinji gritted his teeth, and his fingers dug into the varnish of the desk. "Don't _fuck_ with me," he growled. "I told you not to have anything to do with him. I _told_you not to even talk to him. He's a liar, and he's up to no good–"

The other captain let out an irritated sigh. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Hitsugaya!" Shinji almost yelled. On the other side of the room, Mashiro winced. "You were with him, last night! You took him to your room!"

There was a beat, and Kensei looked dumbstruck. Then his wide eyes narrowed, and the beginnings of a storm crept into his expression. "You...were you spying on us?"

"I heard from one of my own subordinates," Shinji lied, "But that's not the point. What did you do!? If he asked you for something–"

"I was going to lend him some books," Kensei said coolly, though the outline of his gritted jaw betrayed the fury no doubt building up inside him. "And we talked about stuff. It's called socialising, Hirako. You don't have to–"

"What did you talk about, exactly?" Shinji asked harshly. He paid no mind to the brush straining to snap in Kensei's fingers, as it shook slightly above the parchment.

Kensei let out an impatient noise. "Stuff. The books, our hobbies, cooking. Food they eat in the material world these days. _Personal_stuff. Are you done interrogating me? If you're so curious, just go ask him yourself."

"Is that really it?" Shinji pressed on. "Are you sure you didn't let slip of anything?"

The brush shattered cleanly in half with a harsh, splintering sound, clattering to the desk with thin, white cracks in the once-smooth surface stretching from the break. His chair was knocked back as Kensei kicked it away, unable to hold his temper back any longer, and he grabbed the blonde captain by the nape of his robes. Shinji did not seem particularly startled by this act; he glared steadily into the seething man's eyes, intent on getting an answer out of him.

Kensei's gaze was as hard as stone, and fists which had pummelled Gillians to death dug in to the skin next to Shinji's neck, grip tightening against it. He forced the other captain to lean slightly forward over the desk, the only thing that separated them from a brawl for the moment.

"What is wrong with you?" he uttered angrily, hostile reiatsu rising at an alarming rate. "He's your own vice. He doesn't deserve this type of treatment from you!"

Shinji bared his teeth defiantly. "He isn't what he seems! I've been watching him, Muguruma. He's up to something. Don't tell me you haven't noticed how he acts around other people, too!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kensei said defensively. "He's a good kid. He's a capable leader, and he knows the responsibility he carries better than others. And he respects you as his superior! He actually praised you at length last night. I don't understand why you're being so...so damn paranoid."

There was sweat glistening on what could be seen of Shinji's chest as Muguruma yanked at his robes still, and he swallowed audibly. Their reiatsu were clashing; had any person weaker than a vice captain been trapped in the room with them, they may have well lost consciousness from the pressure, stifling and crushing like the summer heat.

"You can't expect me to believe that's not all you know about him. Everybody's heard the stories about him, the ones that say he's a – a _slut_underneath those big innocent eyes. And there can't be smoke without fire–"

"Or if there are bastards who can't keep their perverted fantasies to themselves. I don't know about you, but don't lump me with that kind. Most of the captains are trying to protect him from those people. What about _you_?"

The blonde man grasped the firm hand holding him, and pried the fist off his black robes. Kensei let him go, but only after giving him a firm shove. They were both breathing hard by then.

Lips turned white, Shinji appraised Kensei from the distance he had stumbled. There were alarms ringing in the back of his mind, telling him to let the issue be until a later date, that he would achieve nothing in this state. But the frustration at that the child had everyone, including Muguruma, eating from his hand drove him on, heedless of the remaining rational part telling him to just turn back to his own office.

"I'm trying to protect _us_!" he retorted. "I'm trying to get you blind fools to wake up, and at least consider! And he doesn't need your coddling; he gets close to people of his own intentions, so that he can use them! I'm just trying to stop that from happening to you, if you would just listen...!"

A deafening slam cut through his cry; Kensei had brought his hands down onto the desk, mimicking the action Shinji had made when he had entered the office. He took a moment to inhale, and exhale deeply, his face shadowed and unreadable as he gazed down at the cluttered work scattered across the polished mahogany. Then, a guttural sound emerged from him; the man gave a mirthless bark of laughter, and lifted his head. The grimace was probably supposed to be a crooked grin, but either way, it did not reach his stone-hard eyes.

"Are you really, Hirako?" he asked, accusingly, menacingly. "Are you honestly acting for our sakes? Or are you trying to justify yourself, and this insane need to keep everybody away from your vice? Which is, if you haven't denied yourself too much to notice, really like something a jealous stalker might have. Are you sure what you have isn't some sort of a – a sick, secret obsession with the boy?"

The air in the room stilled, as though the chilly voice in which Kensei had delivered the words had frozen it. Shinji stared at him, unable to trust himself to reply without tackling the other captain by the throat. They glowered at each other, uncaring if the space around them was crackling with the friction of their powers, silently battling each other for a hold, or if Mashiro was cowering behind her desk, unsure whether to leap into the fray to save her captain when his opponent was a known friend. Eventually, though, the red in Shinji's vision faded, and the haze in his head cleared. An odd feeling had settled on him as his brain really registered what had just been spat at him, and had made him reel. Shinji grimaced as he pictured the scene he was causing; and, upon a moment of reflection, realised that any reaction he made to Kensei's words would affirm them. He stepped back, slowly. Kensei watched him shrewdly, before sinking back into the captain's chair.

Although his irrational anger _– (shock? panic?) –_had managed to quell itself, Shinji still balled his fists and glared warningly at the other man.

"Never say that again," he all but snarled. "And I'm telling you, stay away from him for your own good or–"

"Get out of _my_office," Kensei's voice was low and dangerous, a deep rumble that seemed to reverberate off the walls. The rage simmering underneath was evident to all in the room. "Before you even think to try ordering me around."

Shinji wanted to say more. Desperation was inching into his mind, into the fury, because Kensei not only had no idea about his suspicions for the kid, but now also thought he was a crazed paedophile targeting his vulnerable second-in-command. But the words and aura of the man clearly conveyed to him that the Ninth Captain was in no mood to hear his excuses out, even if he explained them patiently, nor did he have any intentions of calming down while Shinji was in the vicinity.

He backed off from the desk, but not before shooting another angry look at Kensei as a final threat. Ignoring Mashiro, who was fingering the zanpakuto at her waist uncertainly as he passed, he made to storm out of the office and threw the door open violently.

Hitsugaya stood in the corridor on the other side, hand outstretched for the doorknob when it was wrenched away from before him. Shinji froze at the sight of him: wide teal eyes looking up at him in surprise, with soft white locks falling into them, and the small, frail-looking body visibly shivering when it was suddenly hit by the harsh reiatsu of two captain-level shinigami. The blonde man could say nothing as his vice fumbled in his hastiness to greet him.

"Um...good morning, Captain," Hitsugaya was saying politely. He seemed curious about what had been going on in the Ninth Division Captain Office, but even in the blank his mind had drawn up Shinji already knew that the damned boy was completely aware. He might have even been listening in through the door.

"I heard you were headed to the Ninth Division, but you'd left some paperwork to pass on to them," said Hitsugaya helpfully, and Shinji finally noticed the stack of documents he was holding up with small, smooth hands. "Is...everything okay?"

The child was the picture of innocence. He was small but earnest, a little clumsy but worked hard to make up for it. He had seen things no child should ever experience, and yet he retained the life and hope only the young could share.

That was the image Hitsugaya projected to everyone he met. Everyone apart from Shinji, who was alone in his conviction that what he was seeing was a mask.

_What if..._

Shinji didn't let himself finish. He had learned, long ago, that a simple question could be all that was needed to plant doubt in his mind. It had never mattered if he was alone. He had never cared if everybody else thought him as mad. He knew that the truth was all he had to believe, and that what he believed was the truth.

And he knew Hitsugaya was a threat to him, if not to the whole Soul Society. He had vowed to take responsibility for the wretched devil.

Who was peering concernedly into his face, fine eyebrows starting to knit themselves together.

"Captain?"

He forced his voice to unstick from the back of his throat. "Fine. Everything's fine," he managed to grunt. "Carry on."

The Fifth Captain swept past the confused boy, intent on heading back to his quarters and taking the morning off. He needed a swig or two from his private sake stash to even consider coming in after lunch. Behind him, there was a puzzled pause, and then the footsteps of his vice walking into the office echoed back to him down the hall.

"Hitsugaya," Kensei's surprised voice drifted through the open doorway. "I didn't notice you there."

"Good morning, Captain Muguruma. I just have some things to drop off. Thank you for the books last night, I found them very enlightening."

"They're for old geezers; I didn't expect you to like them." The usually grouchy man sounded pleased despite his gruff words. "Go put some tea on, Mashiro." There was a clattering response.

"I heard you shouting," Hitsugaya said, softly. "Did my captain give you any trouble? I apologise in his stead if he did."

An uncomfortable hesitation followed. "Hitsugaya...you...take care of your captain," said Kensei finally. "And watch out for him when he's in one of his moods. And just...just remember that you're welcome here at any time if you have any problems."

The smile was evident in the boy's voice, even as he faded out of earshot. "Oh. I will."

- X -

A couple days later found the gossipers of Seireitei talking behind their hands about the feud between two captains, namely the Fifth and the Ninth. One was as prickly and sore as ever when broached about the subject, and the other held firmly that he knew nothing of the matter now go fuck yourself, so the validity of the information was obscure, but it was obvious that they had had a disagreement of some kind. A little slip-up by one hyper, talkative vice-captain in the cafeteria confirmed that there had been a shouting match that morning many witnesses saw Captain Hirako storm furiously through the halls, although said vice-captain had been seized by the green hair before anyone could learn what it had been about.

A small group of drinking friends suggested that one probable reason for their fighting may have been the _other_vice-captain of the pair, the infamous Hitsugaya Toushiro. However, the idea never caught on, and the drunks who had spent a night excitedly elaborated on the possibility woke up the next morning with splitting headaches, with no memories of the night before nor any idea how close they had struck to home.

The rumour mill died down in time, mainly since both parties were stoically ignoring the existence of it, but the damage it had done was enough to let Hitsugaya want to pat himself on the back a little.

"My poor confused captain," he said gently, barely keeping the triumphant grin in check, "He has had a taste of reality. He believes nobody will ever stand by him now."

He sat under a flowering plum tree in the eastern outskirts of Seireitei. It was just a little way off from where the gates were situated, but not too far from the offices, either. A few other Death Gods walked by him across the meticulously paved square, and the women smiled sidelong at him, gushing between themselves about how darling the youngest of them always was.

Alongside the stone bench Hitsugaya was perched on, dangling his thin legs and humming tunelessly, was Third Seat Ichimaru Gin. He was trying to make himself obscure underneath the shadow of the tree in contrast, but the task was rather difficult when his superior was getting so much attention. In any case, he mimicked Hitsugaya and stared straight ahead, speaking in low tones and watching the passersby shrewdly.

"Are ya sure that's safe?" he asked. "Unless we convince him otherwise, he won't stop at anything till he gets what he wants. He'll become increasingly unstable, 'specially 'round ya."

Hitsugaya chuckled in his throat, the sound strangely adult and too dark for a child of his exterior. "Trust me. He won't be persuaded to let this slide, no matter how much effort we put in. This way is more effective; let him torment himself, let him run around in circles. Let him drag his feet," Hitsugaya said in a mild, lyrical voice.

Ichimaru chanced a glance at his companion. The boy appeared to be thinking, staring into middle space as his mind undoubtedly played out the scenarios they could now conjure. Ichimaru was fascinated with the twin orbs that were his eyes, as it seemed to turn a deeper green when his eyelids were lowered. The shadows cast onto the gems hid away the true Toushiro, he knew, and it wasn't all pretty things. But that was what drew him like sugar does to ants, and it thrilled him to no end when he realised, once again, just how dangerous it was becoming as he travelled further down the rabbit hole.

And yet they were not alone together on it. However much Ichimaru wanted to believe that Hitsugaya talked to him, only him, like this, he knew it was not so; he'd glimpsed the vice-captain with other men, though he neither knew nor cared about their names. They had probably walked right into the trap Hitsugaya had laid out for them, lured by sweet, empty promises for a job well done ... just like he had done. To Hitsugaya, none of them, Ichimaru included, were anything special. They were his little blank faced pawns, the toys he didn't bother tidying away when he was done with them. The puppets he would rather cut of their strings than free when they got entangled. Hitsugaya himself had told him as much that night.

Well, Ichimaru had decided, that couldn't go on. While he was busy biting and kicking his potential rivals off, the younger boy was climbing the power ladder, aiming ever for higher and higher. He needed to become stronger, and quickly, before the goal was set too steeply, and Hitsugaya was too far out of his reach.

As though he had read his mind, Hitsugaya spoke up, snapping out of his reverie as he did.

"I saw you out on the training grounds last night," he said conversationally. Ichimaru twitched. He hadn't noticed anyone watching him.

"You were practicing your bankai." It was an affirmation, not a question. The younger was eyeing him interestedly now, taking in every slight change he could perceive of the careful fox-mask. "How is it going?"

He shrugged. "'t's difficult," Ichimaru admitted. "Shinsou is a fickle thing."

Hitsugaya felt Hyourinmaru thrum gently against his back, and smiled. "They usually are. It's true that compatibility with your zanpakuto affects your power over it. If the shikai was the step to friendship, then the bankai requires a more...intimate relationship. For the zanpakuto, to achieve bankai is to reach deep within them, somewhere dark, secret, and personal; the weakness you cannot help but yearn to grasp, for it will literally make them your subject, and it is in your nature to make them bend for you. And once you please them enough, once you find the place that will make them think of nothing but you, then they will open for you, and _envelop_you–"

Beside him, Ichimaru laughed weakly. "Hitsugaya-han, ya know way too many innuendos fer yer age."

"I'm not aware that I implied anything. Perhaps it's your overactive imagination suggesting."

There was uncomfortable shifting. "Suggesting that ya might be taking this 'keep me on my toes' tactic a li-i-ittle too far?"

Hitsugaya's smile turned somewhat secretive, and he stood abruptly. "Should we go find a more secluded area, Ichimaru?"

The other boy sighed, defeated; he knew, from the sudden change in his demeanour, that his vice-captain was not inviting him to some fun and play – it was back to business for them.

"Yessir," He stood as well, then dipped his head to whisper, "I'll be there in ten."

He didn't know if his vice-captain was aware of it, but he grinned widely when he moved away, and found the tip of the boy's ear dusted with a light tinge of red.

- X -

So ten minutes later Ichimaru found himself lounging on a bale of hay tucked in the corner of a dim storage shed. There were no windows on the small stone building, but cracks around and in the old wooden doors provided just enough light for him to see his surroundings. There were other, long forgotten equipment littering the hard grey floor – tarps which seemed to have been collecting dust for centuries, old desks with their legs or surface splintered or missing, some artefacts of 'culture' the Fifth Division Captain had brought back from the material world some years ago, and promptly forgotten about. Ichimaru made sure none of them were disturbed from their resting places; Hitsugaya was very particular about leaving no clues or marks that would lead to them.

He perked up when the door creaked open slightly, letting in some light to pour on the milling dust for a brief second. The small figure he had been expecting slipped in, his reiatsu suppressed to a quiet, almost unnoticeable presence. Ichimaru smiled at him from the dark, but the cocky greeting he had been about to give wilted on his lips at the sight of the harried expression on the young face.

"What happened?" His tone was urgent and concerned through the darkness.

Hitsugaya bolted the door, his scowl firmly etched on the skin between his brows. His previous good mood had dissipated in the place of apparent displeasure. "I met my captain on the way. It took some time throwing him off."

Something in Ichimaru made him tense at the mention of Captain Hirako. Hitsugaya was saying something as he sidestepped the junk cluttering the shed, making his way toward the hay the other boy had fashioned himself a seat from, but Ichimaru only listened with half an ear. An unpleasant sensation coiled in his chest, and it only grew as he imagined the captain catching hold of his vice in the winding streets of Seireitei, and taking him aside for 'important matters' which required the two to talk alone. Ichimaru revelled in the irony that their plan consisted them taking the old fool down, but until then, he hated having to bear with the fact that Captain Hirako had exclusive contact with the younger boy.

And the fact that Hitsugaya was more than willing to do _anything _for the chance to use that to his advantage worried him more than any moves the captain might pull.

"Of course we planned it this way, but it still gets rather tiring with him so persistent in suspecting me, you know," Hitsugaya sighed, reaching the dusty corner and plopping himself down beside his third seat, resuming the same position as he had on the bench, in the sun. "Then again, that's the only reason he allows me to stay by his side. To keep an eye on me."

Ichimaru's skin crawled as he let his thoughts dwell on what he secretly suspected truly compelled Captain Hirako to keep his vice close, and a feeling akin to anger made his ears buzz.

Closing his mind to the dizzying emotion, he tried to give his usual smile. "Perhaps it'll be fer the better if ya stayed away fer a while, then. It wouldn't do if he were ta catch on, yes?"

Hitsugaya barked a rueful laugh. "No, as much as it complicates things, we can use this. At least we know he is onto us – me, to be precise. And I can be a diversion."

Ichimaru dropped his grin immediately, finding that keeping his facial muscles like so was difficult when the corners of his lips were dragging down. "But surely it's too risky a gamble ta put _you_on the line," he pointed out. "After all, yer the mastermind. I could draw his attention, if ya just let me–"

The boy cut him off with a small shake of the head, much to Ichimaru's dismay. "There's no need to create more suspects for him to follow," he said lightly. "And it has to be me. I'm the one he's always been watching; I'm the one who he's always sensitive about." He smiled widely, mirth dancing in his emerald eyes. "Have you heard what he did the other day? In Captain Muguruma's office?"

"Yes," came the short and sulky answer from his right.

"He is more than preoccupied with me," the boy continued. "Besides, I need you to keep working on the experiment. It needs to be perfect, even if it is not our main objective. Only the best for our beloved leaders, right?"

"Right," echoed Ichimaru, his voice prickling as hidden thorns do. He was quite willing to fulfil this certain request, and was, indeed, rather impatient to do so. Ichimaru had to admit his vice-captain – his master by any other word – had a pretty sick mind; when plotting to overthrow some of the most powerful Death Gods in history wasn't enough, then turning them into monsters, their natural enemy, the _prey_, was the sensible conclusion Hitsugaya had drawn up. Not that Gin was averse to this idea when it came to the grand scheme of things.

(For Hitsugaya, the grand scheme was, of course, for world domination. For Gin, it spelled out as "letting Hitsugaya have his fun while he can".)

- X -

"Fancy seeing you at this time, Captain Hirako."

Shinji turned swiftly, reiatsu spiking for an instant, causing the crickets in the grass to fall silent. He relaxed when he saw the figure striding towards him, lab coat swishing brightly against the dark surroundings, apologetic smile framed with a mop of messy, wheat-coloured hair.

"It's a nice evening," he grinned back, as he tried to ignore how his pulse had quickened. Likewise, the presence of his power was forced to calm and be subdued. "I felt like a walk."

Urahara Kisuke stopped beside the older captain, just as the crickets of the dusk started up their melodic singing again. Together, they stood in the middle of the Fifth Division barracks courtyard, the long grass brushing the robes just beneath their knees, the clear sky glittering with a sea of diamonds, even as the last of the sunlight made its retreat into the still faintly red horizon.

They watched the traces of the day disappear, before Kisuke, as though the enclosing darkness had given him the safety to speak, said quietly, "You have not been yourself lately."

Shinji did not tear his gaze away from the night sky. "And what makes you think that?"

"Your behaviour – as well as the many rumours of your behaviour – does," said Kisuke, shuffling to face the older captain properly. His gaze was serious, concerned; its intensity forced Shinji to turn as well, eventually, sighing slightly as he did so. "You are getting lax with your work. The documents I needed a month ago to authorise some combined training exercises with your division arrived on my desk today; Hiyori-san is complaining that you are making outrageous requests of our lab products with no forewarning. You actually missed the last captain's meeting, and Unohana-san told me today at lunch that some members of the mission party _you_were leading have been in the hospital ward for quite some time now. And a few days ago, I heard you got into a fight with Muguruma-san, of all people. Captain Hirako," Kisuke continued earnestly, even as Shinji looked away, "If there is anything bothering you, if there is anything I can do to help...please, tell me. I do not like seeing you in this way."

The other man did not move a muscle for several heartbeats, before giving a throaty chuckle that sounded only slightly forced. "Aha, you've been worried dor me, have you?" he grinned teasingly, meeting Kisuke's stare head on. "You've always been the motherly sort. But believe me when I say that nothing is wrong. Perhaps I have been preoccupied – with a little wonderful something called _lurve_."

He finished with a flourish, and smiled brilliantly at the other man, hoping he would buy it. But as even the crickets seemed to quieten in the silence that ensued, the only audible sound was that of the tree leaves rustling in the cool breeze. Kisuke's expression was suddenly stony.

"...Love? _Amor_? No?" Shinji tried again. "Damn, you're a hard nut to crack. No wonder Hiyori's getting more violent with me instead of less."

Kisuke didn't even blink. He watched the other captain's face searchingly, before shaking his head. "Captain Hirako. I'd like you not to underestimate me; I understand you are not willing to discuss the matter freely with me for some reason, but please don't insult my intelligence with such an excuse. Besides, you are obsessed with your hair."

"What does that have to do with – ah, fine," Shinji growled, dropping all pretences. He looked around with narrowed eyes, and Kisuke felt a strange, sweeping sensation as Shinji checked the area with his reiatsu. He followed a beckoning Shinji deeper into the shadows of the nearby tree, quietly waiting as the older man murmured kidous to secure their privacy.

He stood patiently as Shinji finally turned to him, his expression far more serious than it had been only moments ago.

"We will need to be quick," he said lowly, and Kisuke nodded vigorously as he sensed the urgency in his words. The fifth captain looked discomfit for a moment, bedew shaking his head and stepping closer. "I fear a revolt, and soon."

Kisuke's eyes were wide. "Who by?"

"Er. That's–" Again, Shinji looked shifty, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well, you're probably not going to believe me if I tell you outright and all..."

"What?"

"It's a person we all know very well," Shinji tried to explain, "And you have to understand, we live in a very unstable world, among very unstable people. We can never tell what's going on inside even the most innocent-looking people's heads."

His companion hesitated. "Is he – or she – very powerful?"

"He is. And crafty. And..." Shinji felt a shiver crawl down his spine, and loathed himself for it. "And very alluring. You'd never know what hit you. That's how he works, I've found; he gets close to you, and makes you trust him, and then he tempts you. Fall into his trap once and you can't do anything but do as he bids–"

"Captain Hirako," Kisuke interrupted uncomfortably. "That sounds awfully like–"

"Like Hitsugaya!" Shinji exclaimed, more than a little relieved that he didn't have to go on farther. "Yes! I _knew_you would catch on."

There was, again, another short pause.

"...Uh...I was going to say a succubus, or maybe a whore, but," Kisuke shrugged. "Sure, that works too...I guess."

"No you don't!" Shinji moaned abruptly, only just resisting the urge to beat his head against the tree. He couldn't bring himself to meet Kisuke's pitying gaze. "You think I've lost my mind, or something. I didn't mean for it to come out like that! Look, I'm serious," he was grasping now, desperate to keep even _Urahara_from thinking him as insane, at the very least, "And please don't report me just yet. Hear me out, okay?"

"Captain–"

"I've never caught him in the act," Shinji started grudgingly, ignoring Kisuke's attempts to cut in. "But he is more than he looks. He's the youngest shinigami to rise to his rank; do people really think he's as innocent as he makes himself out to be? And then there are all these rumours about him; I don't know which deprived idiot started them, but they make it out like he takes random people – _men _– to bed every full moon and gives them the time of their lives, before fading – and I quote from the last drunk I questioned – "out of their lives like a dream, that one'll always remember and never again obtain". And the worst thing is, I can't tell if the whole thing is a load of bull or not, when–"

_When I just want to keep him for myself._

"–When I can't exactly come out and ask the bastard boy himself," he finished.

Kisuke waited a few beats to make sure the other man was done, before coughing lightly. "Well...he does give these...vibes."

Shinji glared at him. "He is dangerous," he grumbled, leaning against the trunk of the tree. In the heat of his rant, he'd gotten side-tracked with some thoughts he was not at all comfortable with, and had been this close to letting the worst of them slip out. "He is moving behind my back, scheming and waiting for the right moment. But when he strikes, I'll be ready for him. If I could just..."

He noticed Kisuke watching him slightly warily, and shook his head at his own hastiness. "Yeah. I won't blame you if you don't believe me. Or if you want to cut all ties from me and pretend you don't know me every time we meet in public. I just...I know what I know."

He turned away helplessly, hopes falling as he heard Kisuke sigh – out of exasperation, or disdain, or what – from beside him. He braced for the final blow.

"Captain," Kisuke said patiently. "I believe you."

The spells that formed the barrier around them wavered, as Shinji blinked and looked around at the head of the Research Department. He was smiling peacefully up at Shinji, and his eyes held nothing but its usual warmth.

"...Wow," Shinji managed. "You really _are_weird."

"Perhaps," replied Urahara nonchalantly, "But I trust you, and your intuitions. You _do _seem the type of person to run off with strange ideas – but I know you, both from my own experiences and what Yoruichi-san has said of you, that you are more than that." His smile grew a tad wider. "In that respect, perhaps you and your vice share something in common. Anyway, I hope you won't ask for any more reasons for trusting you, because honestly, I don't have much more."

Shinji wouldn't have dared to. A sense of calm had settled him and his nerves for the first time in months; this knowledge that he was not alone in this battle, that now there was someone else to affirm it for him. It was still quite possible that he was completely paranoid, and that he had just meaninglessly dragged young Kisuke into his insanity as well, but it didn't matter anymore. He felt infinitely better now, although the feeling was quite unexplainable.

"I...thanks," he muttered. "...Thanks."

"It is not a problem," Kisuke answered. "Simply promise me that when the time comes, you will not hesitate to ask for my assistance."

A small nod.

"And do you think you could get back to doing your work properly sometime soon, too?"

Shinji felt his lips quirk up, showing his sharp teeth – his first true smile in what felt like ages. "If that wasn't your true reason for agreeing to believe me, then yeah, I think I might." The light comment was a little too close to home than he had liked, so he added, slightly anxiously, "It's not, is it?"

Kisuke laughed as well, and it was easy and honest. It was like a breath of fresh air for one who had felt as though he was drowning in the falsity, the masks, and sickly sweet, bright green eyes. "It's not. I assure you." He looked around, and found the lights from the nearby buildings had gone out, meaning that even the overtime workers had gone back to their quarters. "It is getting late. We should probably go home now, and prepare for tomorrow – especially you, Captain Hirako. You have a long day of catching up, after all."

"Eh." Shinji gave a noncommittal grunt, before waving his hand to disperse the spells in agreement. His spirits were considerably lighter than when he had first entered the courtyard, and not for the first time, he marvelled at the almost soothing presence Urahara had.

They had relapsed into understanding silence and were about to go their separate ways, when Kisuke called out to him from the other end of the courtyard.

"Seriously, you're not pulling my leg?"

"No!"

* * *

><p><strong>Because I can totally see these two meeting up in some shadowy corner, wearing dark sunglasses and exchanging top secret information and be a little silly while they're at it. I didn't originally plan this chapter out this way, but hey, everyone else in my head seems happy with it. Except Ichimaru. And obviously Shinji, who in canon is up for a bit of a thrashing after this. His troubles never seem to cease.<strong>

**Well, poor Shinji has one gnawing, haunt-him-in-his-dreams problem down, in that he finally has an ally against Shiro-chan. Now to deal with the other problem – the one that coincides with his secret shota fetishes, and the cute, seductive vice-captain placed so coincidentally at his side.**

**Which, according to the plans that exist solely in my mind and past experiences with updating, might take a tiny little bit to come up. Uh, but no worries! Story alert, and review while you're at it, and it should be up in no time! (Gah, blatant lies – although reviews will be great~ I huggle them all and it's always nice to hear what you guys think of this!)**

**Although now that my university application exams are officially over, and all I'm doing at the moment is sleeping in school and searching for a part-time job, things _might _start to pick up. If you happen to have nothing else to do, then allow me to do some shameless self-promotion: please read "Telling Thoughts", another GinHitsu fic I'm working on, if you haven't already! Please. I'm like, grovelling here.**

**Hope you enjoyed this, and remember! Reviews are more than welcome! …MORE THAN WELCOME! *desperate***


	4. Born In Grief, Raised In Hate

***My Conscience, armed with a whip, and me sitting hunched over the laptop, typing furiously***

**Me: ALRIGHT ALRIGHT I'M DOING IT**

**Dammit, I've told myself it's not a good idea to stay up till 3 in the morning when it's a Monday the next day...**

**Read and Review, pleeaase!**

* * *

><p><strong>Born in Grief, Raised In Hate<strong>

The shops of Seireitei were of a more manicured variety compared to the ones Hitsugaya had known in Rukongai, possibly due to the lack of need for survival between themselves when all the customers were good-paying, high-earning shinigami. Most of them were passed down through generations of shopkeepers, and catered an extensive array of goods for all situations. One particular sweetshop was handled by a kind elderly couple, who looked forward to the frequent visits of a certain white-haired child.

Said child was stepping out onto the paved streets, his arms full with a woven basket which contained his purchases. Stacked as high as they were, he was having trouble seeing the road before him, and was too busy concentrating on his every wobbly step that he only stopped when he heard his name.

"Hitsugaya-kun."

The boy started; sandaled feet entered the edges of his vision, and he looked up to find the captain of the Twelfth Division smiling down at him. He tried to give Urahara Kisuke a short bow in greeting, but was interrupted when one of the cartons slid off the top of the pile and landed at the captain's feet.

"Excuse me, Captain," he stammered, as the tall man bent to pick it up. His face was flushed in embarrassment when Kisuke looked up at him. He replaced the small box, before proceeding to pat the small head friendlily.

"Ama-nattou, huh?" he smiled. "I've heard they're your favourite."

Hitsugaya ducked his head respectfully. "They are. My grandmother in Rukongai used to give me them as treats – I like to send her some from here when I can."

"Hm. And I see your captain's asked you for his groceries as well. Would you like a hand with that?"

Rolls of blank parchment, bags of okonomiyaki flour, and a bound book about the Western Material World peeked out from underneath a pouch full of karinto. "Thank you kindly, but I can't possibly have a captain trouble himself with my duties." He gave Urahara a bright smile. "Besides, it's not as heavy as it looks."

"Then allow me to walk you up the road, at least." He gestured with an easy hand. "I've been meaning to talk to you for a while."

The boy had to take two steps for every one of Kisuke's almost jogging to keep up. "H-have you? What about?"

"Oh, nothing much. Hitsugaya-kun, do you have any friends?"

The grocery teetered, threatening to break its balance again. "_Excuse_me?"

The man laughed at his expression. "I'm sorry, I didn't know quite how to word this properly. It's just...you're so very young, even compared to the rest of us, you see. It's the responsibility of us older folks to see that you're getting on fine with others, preferably of your own age."

Hitsugaya was quiet, before he said, hesitantly, "I'm afraid I don't completely understand, sir, but if it puts you at ease, I think I am faring better than when I was back in Rukongai, or the Academy." He looked up with a small smile. "I was never so close to the children in my neighbourhood, and the only person I keep in touch with outside of Seireitei is...well, my sister, for want of a better word. Here, everyone is much friendlier. I'm happy here, sir, really."

"Oh? But you don't have particular people, who you like to play or talk or, I don't know, do stupid things with sometimes? Even I have drinking pals, although I wouldn't suggest that to you. Doesn't that get a little lonely?"

"...Work doesn't quite allow that, as I suppose you may know, Captain." Hitsugaya was starting to sound increasingly uncomfortable, and most people would have left him alone there, "The shinigamis closer to my own age...they seem wary of my rank and abilities, and I don't think they enjoy my company in the brief time I have talked to them. But other people are more open-minded, I've found; they don't mind it when I ask to join their conversations, and rather allow me to indulge them with my own companionship at intervals."

Urahara's eyes twinkled at him from the side. "Ah, I see. Yes, I've seen you with those people, I think, and the way you seem to be enjoying yourselves relieved me greatly then, actually. I mean, I always assumed you were talking of work, seeing as you are usually only entertaining one person rather than a group, but of _course_friends could do that, too. Three's a crowd, like they say. And well, I mean, I've never seen you with the same person again, and you always seem to choose rather obscure spots to have your conversations, but it's not like I spend all my time in the Fifth Division, after all."

One could have imagined the strain in the vice-captain's voice. "I wouldn't say they are friends–"

"That's a pity. Anyway, like I've said, it's practically my job to worry for you, hmm? And your own captain's obviously. So if you would like to talk about anything, let us know."

The end of the road, and the shopping district, was marked by a large and conspicuously painted arch that stretched above their heads. Hitsugaya gave a short bow, minding his overflowing basket. "Your kindness is greatly appreciated. I seem to get told that a lot, these days," he muttered.

Urahara patted his lowered head lightly. "We just care for you that much," he said heartily. "And are those dried persimmons? I've just noticed; I thought you disliked them!"

The boy jerked at the abrupt change in subject. He hid it, quickly, by shifting his weight to the other foot. "I'm trying to get over that. My grandmother always told me that I shouldn't be picky about my food, if I want to get taller. Or – or something like that."

The captain smiled. "You needn't worry. I believe you'll grow up into a strong, healthy young man, soon." He turned to take his leave. "Just stay out of trouble, and you'll see."

Waving, pretending he couldn't feel the green eyes burning into his back, he disappeared behind a gaggle of black robes, as swiftly as he had come.

* * *

><p>Ichimaru did a double-take. "He what?"<p>

A bag made of wreathed, dry grass came flying through the dimness to hit him on the face; a citrus scented waft floated out once he'd set aside the appropriate whining to open it. "Here're your persimmons. I'll have you know I had to lie to avoid mentioning you, by the way."

"Really? Well, thank ya." He took one, popped it into his mouth. The unique sweet flavour spread over his tongue, as he ground down on the tough flesh. "What did ya say?"

"None of your business."

Gin smiled, deciding not to press further. The momentary cheerfulness soon dissipated, however, when he remembered the subject they were on. "Did he try doing anything else ta ya?"

Hitsugaya's voice sounded vaguely mystified. "No. I'm fine, aren't I?"

Ichimaru wondered if the other boy was just that oblivious, or if that had been his attempt at a joke. "I meant," he corrected himself, "Ya attract too much attention as it is, Vice-Captain. Can't ya, like, tone it down a bit?"

He'd meant for it to sound light, a jest, but Hitsugaya was apparently in a bad mood and he could just _see_ the scowl permeating the darkness at him. "As I've told you before, it's _necessary_. And even if I tried, do you think it will be easy with my position? No; we have to use what we have to our advantage, however little it may be." Something shifted on the hay beside Ichimaru; then there was a light weight, warmth radiating through black robes, a tuft of white hair tickling his shoulder.

"Still," Hitsugaya sighed, and through the dimness Ichimaru could barely see him propping his chin on his hand moodily, "It does cause inconvenience. Urahara can watch us where the Captain can't. The word of the Captain alone would have been questionable, but with his combined...?"

"He is the youngest among them," murmured Ichimaru. "Per'aps it won't have much of an effect."

Green eyes stared into middle space, never once looking at him. "We shouldn't underestimate him so. He used to be in the Second Division, Ichimaru. We need to find a way to displace them."

The fox-faced boy puffed his cheeks out. "But you just said–"

"_We_can't move so easily," Hitsugaya said gently, playing with a straw of yellow hay. "Which means we need to go recruiting."

Uneasiness knotted Ichimaru's gut, and he thought about the men he sometimes saw Hitsugaya with. Men whose leers were hidden only by paper-thin masks, and preying eyes peered out, watching the boy hungrily.

"Maybe we shouldn't," he said, with hastiness so blatant it made even himself wince. He asserted himself quickly. "There's a little something called biting off more you can chew, Hitsugaya-han. Have you ever considered that too many pawns might be too much to handle? There must be someone we can re-use."

The body beside him shook slightly with a chuckle. "That's awfully stingy of you. Do you truly think those simpletons have the brain capacity to fight a captain, let alone defy me? We need someone cleverer than the likes of them – someone they wouldn't suspect. And before you can say anything, you won't work; really, how many child prodigies do you think this place has? You stand out almost as much as me."

Sulkily, "Fine. How 'bout Akaishi? _He_'s a perfectly normal wallflower." Akaishi, Ichimaru decided, was the safest option. He was the other third seat of the Fifth Division, also appointed by Hitsugaya, and thus the poor beggar was Ichimaru's favourite subject to prank, freak, and shove the full workload of a third seat onto. Yes, his position meant that he was Gin's closest rival...but at least it also meant that he could keep an eye on the man.

But he felt Hitsugaya shaking his head against his left arm. "He has a more important role in this than you think, Ichimaru – him, I cannot risk. Besides, he is too close to us for it not to seem suspicious. We need–"

He broke off abruptly, tensing against Ichimaru. It took the other boy a moment before he realised what was wrong; it took him even shorter to grab his startled vice-captain, and pull him down into the hay with him.

Hitsugaya's lips were pursed tightly, determined to allow not even a sliver of sound escape them, but his green eyes glared at his. They were also very, very close. Ichimaru stared into them for a second too long, until they averted themselves to frown upon some part of his neck. Slightly disappointed, but snapping out of his momentary reverie all the same, Ichimaru closed his own eyes, concentrating.

It had crept upon them, slowly and subtly, like the chill of the winter. They had, despite their thoughtful conversation, been on the alert, senses pricked for the exact presence now closing in on them. Yet it had managed to slip through both their defenses, a breeze dancing easily through a thicket of trees, cloaked in the pretense of casualness. Only beyond that could they sense its true power; and Ichimaru found that he had been holding his breath, when the reiatsu of a captain stopped outside the door of the dark shed.

He tightened his hold around Hitsugaya. The other could not let out a sound of protest, but the quick press of slight fingers against his chest reminded him that his heart could be ripped out of it at any time.

The voice that spoke from beyond the door was light and warm. It also made Ichimaru automatically think of the smell of sake. "Hitsugaya-kun? Is that you in there?"

The boy had slipped out of his grasp and off the small haystack before Ichimaru could stop him. Awkwardly pulling his dishevelled robes together, he quickly manoeuvred himself through the dark objects cluttering the shed. At one point in his hastiness, he stumbled on something hard and teetered precariously for one second; Gin watched, half amused, half tensed, until he righted himself and hopped over it, landing safely on a spot of bare floor.

Sunlight flashed in before the heavy door was all but slammed back, and Hitsugaya's slightly flustered, carefully pleasant voice was floating back from behind it.

"I – Captain Kyouraku. What brings you here?"

The man boomed a merry laugh. "Really, just passing through. I happened to notice your reiatsu from here – quite a peculiar place to find a vice-captain, hm?"

"I was searching for one of those contraptions my captain brought back from the Material World," the boy's words flowed smoothly, his tone reverted back to the usual, brisk one heard at work. Ichimaru marvelled at the swiftness of the change. "He has no idea where he put the - whatever he called it, so I thought I might start here."

"Hm," Kyouraku said again, still easy, still cheery, "And you also thought that burrowing through the hay might help you with that task?"

"…Pardon me?"

There was a shifting noise; then the man's voice sounded so softly, the hidden third seat almost missed it. "You have straw in your hair."

The stillness that followed was the air holding its breath. Ichimaru closed his eyes, closed his reiatsu, and tried to keep it from reaching the captain's senses. He knew it was useless – it was Captain _Kyouraku_ out there, he could probably already find him from miles away if he really tried – but as much as his worry for Histugaya was intensifying, to directly show himself could lead to uncomfortable questions. The child prodigy, together with another in a dark, solitary shed, could only lead to the conclusion that mutiny was brewing.

…_Well…there is another…_

Despite himself, Gin grinned mischievously into the darkness.

"O-oh," Hitsugaya was saying, surprise evident in his voice. "I … hadn't noticed that. I do apologise, I was – napping. Please," he took a breath, "Please don't tell my captain."

Kyouraku's laugh boomed even from outside the shed, and Ichimaru relaxed, confident now that the man had taken it the way he had hoped, dirty mind and all. "I wouldn't dream of it. It's not often, you know, that we see you acting _your _age: why, I was only a young lad myself when I started looking–"

"Did you have somewhere you had to be, captain?"

"Oh. Well, yes, actually, I need to be on the move before Lisa-chan comes hounding after me. If you ever feel like you'd like to hear about my past accomplishments–"

"I'd be sure to find you." Ichimaru noted his vice-captain's saccharine-sweet, brisk tone with mounting amusement.

Footsteps reached his ears soon after, accompanied by a lazy, tuneless humming, which faded away eventually. The third seat awoke himself just as the door creaked; he caught the light pink colouring the other boy's face as he looked over his shoulder, just as the door was shut none too gently once again.

"Well," Hitsugaya breathed before Ichimaru could get a word in, "That confirms it. You cannot be used for this mission."

His stomach dropped some way. "Maybe he didn't notice me?"

The look Hitsugaya must have been giving him almost hurt physically; Ichimaru could just imagine the burning sensation on his cheek. "And I thought you were smart. I will personally recruit the new addition myself, so don't even think about meddling with anyone. He will be as inconspicuous as possible, and have enough sense not to reveal himself – but easy to manipulate. He will have to be motivated, then, for our goals, because he will be with us for a long time. Nothing must deter him; the role I have for him will need endurance and patience."

Ichimaru righted himself on the hay, swinging his legs against it. "That's a tall order, Hitsugaya-han. He's gonna be a tough one ta convince. Do ya have anyone in mind?"

Through the pin-thin slits of light entering the room, he could see the faint shadow of Hitsugaya's form, as it turned to search for his own figure in the blackness. And he could hear the smile in his voice, the unique sound of lips turning up, and the slyness once again present in it as well.

"I may have set my eyes on someone."

* * *

><p>They met atop a small, grassy hill, with the sunset in the backdrop and a lone grave standing under the reddening sky, the bells signalling the evening shift resounding faintly from Seireitei. The small mound there was marked only by a plain block of unpolished stone, but Hitsugaya knew who the ashes scattered here belonged to, and what she must she had meant to the man now kneeling before it, igniting some incense with a burning match.<p>

Precisely why he had followed him here for this conversation.

The man finally turned, shifting on his knees to look up at him with milky-white, unseeing eyes. His face was unreadable, and his tone was rather matter-of-fact, as if he was discussing the next day's weather.

"You will kill me here if I do not agree."

Hitsugaya blinked, but regained his demeanour without missing a beat. "I will. Perhaps dying before her," he gestured, "will allow you to rest in peace, if you so wish."

The man sat there, silent, nothing like the sword-wielding shinigami usually training so diligently in the corner of the Ninth Division's courtyard. When he spoke, his voice was still accepting, calm. "I have been thinking about your offer." His eyes watched the air somewhere above Hitsugaya's left shoulder.

"It is as you said," he said lowly. "I feel ... remorse. Anger. At the husband who betrayed her and robbed her of her life, now dead, and at whom I cannot exact revenge anymore. At the shinigami, who took her from me, and sealed her fate. At her, for her decision. At … at myself."

He fell quiet again, turning his head down and away. A tangled lock of black hair fell against his dark skin. "Myself," he murmured, again.

A raven cawed from somewhere below, far away. Hitsugaya waited.

"My heart is in turmoil," the man said softly. "I was resolved – I do not know what compelled me to become what killed her. Perhaps I was punishing myself. Perhaps I wanted to understand her in her death. Or – somewhere, in my mind, perhaps I wished to do what you are proposing. Maybe I was waiting for this power to lead me."

"I have that power," Hitsugaya told him, and his child's voice sounded high and young in the noiseless surrounding. He watched the dark man, kneeling as if in prayer. "I can change this world."

A dry chuckle escaped the blind man's lips, sad and, for the first time, hopeless. "But you see, I might have had my mind changed. I met someone – someone indebted to the shinigami as much as I was cursed by them. He is different, but he has learnt – perhaps more than I – how to live and love this life he has chosen. And watching him, listening to him … it has changed me. It changed how I thought I should live. I started to think ... maybe, it would be for the best if I let go. If I forgot her."

He laughed again, but it sounded thin and tired. "So, you see, you shall have to kill me. Vice-Captain Hitsugaya."

The wind rushed and whipped their robes around, almost carrying his last words away with it. Hitsugaya did not move, did not turn away from the figure before him. When he spoke, it was softly and gently, without a trace of accusation or threatening.

"But you are not convinced."

The man did not reply, but his back had stiffened, just very subtly. Sighing, Hitsugaya moved forward, to stand beside him.

"You are not convinced," he started quietly, "Because you know you have seen something that must be done. You know forgetting her may be easier, but not right. You do not want to think so, but you believe your – _friend_– is mistaken."

"He has his reasons– " the man started. His hands were fisted on his knees.

"Reasons which stem from the favour the shinigami had done him," the boy said, never shifting his gaze away from the cold grave. "And which you know are not always dealt to others, like this woman who struggled for her happiness ... and was killed by it."

His voice was glass shards broken over hard stone. "I could not tell her not to go – "

"How could you have? Don't most of us become the reapers to escape the poverty of Rukongai? The misery imposed upon us, even in the afterlife?" He shook his head. "And there will be many more. After her; after us. Those people we call our friends and colleagues are the same. What does this society care, as long as it gets what it wants?"

Hitsugaya stopped; Hyourinmaru was becoming unsettled, and there was uneasiness in his chest. The chill of the coming night was approaching too quickly, too unnaturally; a slight wind was blowing his fringe away from his forehead.

He took a breath, and let it out slowly. Calm. The point he was trying to make was hitting closer to home than he had expected it to, but that was not the aim right now. The man beside him seemed not to notice, too engaged in his own thoughts as he were.

It was only after he had made sure his tone was under control – gentle, luring, but slow and clear – before he spoke. "Do you wish vengeance on those who made her suffer? Do you want revenge?"

The man swallowed audibly. "But – I love them." He sounded hoarse, unsure. "He – they are my friends. My _friend_. I …I simply do not want them to face the same fate as her."

"But they will," Toushiro said quietly.

There was a moment's pause, and then Tousen Kaname turned to him. His face was blank, still infuriatingly, vexingly blank, all except for his blind, wide, staring eyes, filled with loss and fear and beseeching him to say that he lies, he lies.

But Toushiro did not turn and reassure him. He stared straight forward, at the humble stone that did not even reach his waist, cold and alone on this forgotten hill.

"Unless we change the way things are. They will. We all will."

He gave the old, weathered headstone one last glance, before turning on his heels. There was a scrambling noise of grit under shoes behind him as he descended the steps, as Tousen hurried to follow him. And Toushiro – Toushiro did not even smile, despite his triumph over the blind man. He was deeply, quietly in thought.

He'd not lied to the man.

The walk back down to Seireitei was completely silent.

* * *

><p><strong>I hate dried persimmons too. Seriously, what's up with that?<strong>

***runs away as Gin and Rangiku come after me, Shinsou and broken beer bottle in hand***


End file.
